first, we came for the muggles
by unbirthdaydance
Summary: The death of Draco Malfoy. Voldemort wins- but at what price?


**Title: **first, we came for the muggles  
**Rating: **T/PG-13  
**Warnings: **Lots of death and an unpleasant look into the mind of a bigot**  
Characters: **Draco Malfoy.  
**Disclaimer: **If you can sue me for owning it, I don't.  
**Summary: **The death of Draco Malfoy. Voldemort wins- but at what price?  
**A/N:** Another dark HP fic. I really need to find other inspirations. Writing this creeped me out. I hope it creeps you out, too.

_Note as of 14 Nov 2010: xXcrying eyesXx: I'm extraordinarily flattered that you liked my writing so much, and that you took the time to review. Thank you so much for that! :) Please do keep your grades up, however; this is only fanfiction and real life is so much more important. :) :) :)_

oOoOoOo

_First, they came for the communists,  
But I was not a communist  
So I did not speak out. _

_Then they came for the trade unionists_  
_But I was not a trade unionist,_  
_So I did not speak out._

_Then they came for the social democrats,_  
_But I was not a social democrat,_  
_So I did not speak out._

_Then they came for the Jews,_  
_But I was not a Jew,_  
_So I did not speak out._

_Then they came for me,_  
_But by then there was no one left_  
_To speak out for me._

_~Martin Niemöller_

oOoOoOo

First, we came for the Muggles.

I believed the stories, the propaganda, the tales of the Ancient Way that my mother whispered and my father proclaimed. Muggles were non-magic. Scum. Unworthy. Less than the meanest hippogriff. So when I was first allowed to go out Muggle-hunting, I enjoyed myself.

Immensely.

Even Muggle blood is pretty when it spills.

oOoOoOo

Then, we came for the Mudbloods.

Muggle-borns are tainted. Blood of mud, they have, descended not from glorious wizardry, but from magicless beings who can't even _see_ Magic when it dances in front of their eyes. It was easy, back in the days before we won, to shift our attention from hapless Muggles to their magic spawn.

It's much more fun to kill someone who knows what's happening.

Personally, however, I prefer Muggles. I don't like it when my prey fights back. Heroically confronting blood-mad Muggleborns intent on eviscerating me is not _my_ idea of fun, however much Vince and Greg seem to enjoy it.

Damn Hermione Granger, anyway.

I'll learn to walk again if it kills me.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the Squibs.

It was an exercise in espionage, finding out who was a Squib and where they lived, then tracking them down and killing them. Squibs were the unfortunate offspring of the magic-born. The power that graced our blood had passed them by, deeming them as worthless as the Muggles they so often chose to live with.

I had an aunt who was a Squib.

Not anymore.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the Ministry.

My father had particular fun with the destruction of the old government. He'd never liked the pompous, idiotic bureaucrats who just barely kept wizarding Britain running. He scorned how easily they were manipulated by him, and how easily they died at his hand, eyes wide and betrayed.

Me, I didn't care. I was too young to have personally experienced the inefficiencies of the Ministry. They'd jailed my father, and I was pleased at his revenge, but that was the extent of my feelings on the matter.

Until we met an angry goblin visiting a clerk who was late filing his Gringotts annual statement.

Until Greg died at that goblin's hands.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the blood traitors.

Weasleys, Macmillans, Longbottoms. All those purebloods who should have marched strong and proud at our side and for our cause, and who instead died to save the worthless hides of Muggles and Muggleborns and other blood traitors. With the Ministry gone, they were more vulnerable than ever.

I never did understand why they turned on us, why even the more traditional ones chose family over purity. I could never explain, watching the Weasley hovel burn down, why four of their brood had killed twelve of us to defend it, and died horribly doing so. I asked the youngest, when she knelt chained before my lord six days later, why her family valued a worn-down shack more than blood purity and ancestral pride.

She told me that half a well-loved, shabby Muggle car was worth more than all our finest family tapestries combined.

I never did figure out what that meant before my lord killed her.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for Gringotts.

Taking over Britain's part of the world economy was a brilliant scheme on my lord's part, and it was wildly successful. At the end of it all, my father was installed as the Minister of the Treasury. Only Aunt Bella, leader of my lord's armies, and my lord himself rivaled him in power.

I could have cared less about the political and economic repercussions of conquering Gringotts. All I cared about was killing goblins. Revenge for poor, dead, stupid Greg.

When they were all mostly dead, the stench of blood strong in the stone-dust air of the bank vaults, all I could think about was Greg. Strangely, I felt no better for having had my vengeance.

He was still dead.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the half-bloods.

One of the first policies of our lord's rule was to round up anyone with impure ancestry and strip them of their wealth. We needed workers to support us; a lower class to keep resources flowing. Muggle slaves did much of the work; so did half-bloods. Most of the Muggleborns were dead by now, of course.

I almost felt sorry for a beaten-down half-blood once, before she looked me brazenly in the eye and spat at me. I wasn't one of them, of course, but I was sure _I_ would have kept my dignity and not _spat_ at my conquerors like some common Muggle.

But of course, that was the real difference between us.

I _wasn't_ one of them.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the Order.

My lord wanted to expand his rule past Britain, but wanted to clean house first, so to speak. So we spent months strengthening our nascent government, and tracking down the rebels that made life dangerous and hellish for anyone caught off their guard.

I lost friends to the depredations of the Order. Vince, Daphne, Millicent... My lord was furious as all hell each time a new casualty was reported. I hated them as much as the next person, and wondered what they saw in repeatedly attacking us. They'd lost. They were never going to win...

When we finally crushed their pointless resistance, the celebrations rang loud and vibrant over the Muggle camps and half-blood hovels. We hadn't caught all of them, of course, but enough to end their subtle reign of insidious fear.

Harry Potter was one of the ones still free.

But I was sure we'd kill him eventually.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the rest of the world.

We started with Norway and worked our way out. It was surprisingly easy to conquer Europe. It was still in fragile condition from the war with Grindelwald half a century earlier, and our lord's acquisition of Gringotts had thrown the whole economy into a wreck. The nations with more purebloods in power tried to appease us; the ones with more 'equality' tried to fight us.

Neither approach worked. We swept through Europe, and moved on to Asia and Africa. By the time we conquered Australasia, the Americas had panicked themselves into defeat, and the Muggles had still not figured out how to build a bomb indestructible by magic. We did allow a few nukes to fall, however.

It was amusing to see how easily the Muggles were tricked into destroying themselves.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the dissidents.

By the time peace came, and my lord was the undisputed conqueror lord of the planet, and making plans to magically travel to the moon, everyone who mattered was happy. That didn't last long. Soon, there were plots afoot to unseat my lord, as all the powerful families wanted his power for themselves.

My father didn't indulge in such useless political maneuvering. He was not as powerful as my lord, but more powerful than anyone else save for my Aunt Bella, who controlled the armies. They were in alliance together to preserve my lord's power, and the might of the military and the treasury deterred the more intelligent dissidents.

There were still unintelligent ones, however. Execution day was always a fun outing. The idiots all deserved it, plotting against my lord.

_I_ would never be so stupid.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the homosexuals.

Everyone raised in a traditional pureblood family knew that homosexuality was forbidden. The thought was that pureblood numbers were so small that if one were homosexual, one wasn't doing one's duty by breeding future wizards and witches. (The hardship pureblood women had in bearing more than one or two children contributed to this fervor to breed as much as possible. Jealousy did a great deal in bringing down the prolific Weasleys.)

Usually, such tendencies were overlooked if the suspected person married and had children. A little indiscretion was okay. But my lord suffered none of this. Any and every homosexual couple was rounded up and killed.

I watched a pair of male lovers burn to death on execution day, and was glad Blaise Zabini had never kissed me on Valentine's Day of my fifth year.

I was even gladder that I'd never kissed him back.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for my family.

I didn't know who had thought of it first; my father or my Aunt Bella. Everyone with any sense knew by now that trying to overthrow my lord was a useless endeavour, because they'd have to get past the two second-most powerful individuals in the world first.

But said individuals apparently decided that together, _they_ could overthrow my lord.

They couldn't, of course. It was a bitter and bloody battle, the worst since the war ended, but my lord won, and my whole family was dead. They were killed in the fighting, and the remainder executed after.

Except for me.

I proclaimed my innocence, swore my devotion to my lord, executed my mother myself. I didn't want to die, and I'd grown more distant from my family as I'd grown older, more interested in what I could do for myself than in what they could do for me. Surprising, I know. Draco Malfoy grew a spine.

I wasn't about to be dragged down by a bunch of idiot traitors, family though they may be.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for the Potterites.

Yes, they called them that. Silliest name I ever heard. But Harry Potter had amassed a following of rebels who, though nowhere near as dangerous as the Order had been in the early days, were still a damned nuisance.

My lord had let them be longer than I'd expected, but my father had explained that away, before his death. The conflict solidified my lord's rule, brought the disparate groups of people under his control together, united them against a common cause. Even the half-bloods and Muggles and Muggleborns hated Potter, because every time he hit a town, the ruling purebloods took their anger out on them.

But now my lord was firmly in control, and Potter was no longer permitted to be a nuisance.

Watching the execution of each and every rebel he commanded didn't make me as happy as I thought it would.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for fear.

My lord developed a habit of choosing citizens at random and executing them for the excitement it brought and the fear it engendered. Everyone scrambled desperately to stay in line, to obey my lord absolutely. They all thought, irrationally, that absolute loyalty would save them.

I thought so, too.

oOoOoOo

Then we came for me.

I was dragged out of my home one morning, flung to my knees before my lord. He read off a list of accusations. Apparently, I'd been plotting murder against my lord's favourites. Apparently, I'd wanted to kill my lord himself. Apparently, I sheltered Muggles in the night, and had a half-blood lover. A _male_, half-blood lover. I ate pureblood knucklebones in my soup for breakfast, and worshipped broken-down Muggle television sets at night. I had a secret Squib daughter by a secret Mudblood wife.

The charges were so ridiculous I almost laughed myself to death.

I wasn't laughing after a night in my lord's torture dungeons.

As I was walked to my death in the execution ring, I closed my eyes and hoped. I ignored the chains digging into my wrists and dragging at my ankles. I ignored the splitting pains that came from Cruciatus overexposure. I ignored the aching betrayal of my peers and my lord. I ignored all this and I hoped.

I hoped a Muggle would accidentally land a plane into the ring and crush those who wanted to kill me. I hoped a Muggleborn would explain how they hated me and would never ever have married me. I hoped a Squib would appear to laugh at how silly it was to worship television sets. I hoped a Ministry bureaucrat would outlaw execution. I hoped a blood traitor cousin would make an impassioned plea in my defense.

I hoped a Gringotts goblin would explain how I, a Malfoy, was a necessary and valuable client, too much so to kill. I hoped a half-blood would scoff at the fact that any of their kind would sleep with me. I hoped the Order would stage a rescue to save me, an innocent accused of several crimes I would never have committed.

I hoped an army of Kenyans, New Zealanders, Americans, Russians, Chinese, Brazilians and Portuguese would show up in a surprise attack to reconquer the world and keep me from my death. I hoped a conspiracy of dissidents would save me to use me in a cunning plan. I hoped a homosexual would come forth to explain why, exactly, I was not a homosexual.

I hoped my family would appear and pull strings on my behalf. I hoped Harry Potter and his idiotic rebels would appear out of the blue and save me. I hoped _someone_ would save me.

I hoped I could escape on my own.

But I'd done too well in ensuring my lord's power. I'd done too well in crushing my enemies and my lord's'. I'd done too well in destroying the unworthy and the worthless, and everyone else. I'd been too loyal to survive. There was no one left to save me, because I had saved no one.

Watch me, my lord, as I execute myself this hot summer's morning. If I'd lived a little longer, there would have been no one left to kill me, just as there's no one left to save me.

Watch me and weep, my lord.

One day, there'll be no one left to come for you.

And no one to rejoice after.


End file.
